


A Gesture More Intimate Than Kissing

by DinosaurTheology



Series: Johnny and Dora [4]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fear, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinosaurTheology/pseuds/DinosaurTheology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A foolish man outside of a bar and three detectives meet by chance. Gunplay is involved. Two of the detectives have an important conversation without saying many words. The third gives some skell serious grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gesture More Intimate Than Kissing

**Author's Note:**

> Brooklyn 99 is still not mine, but I would love to go and write for it. Whereupon it would become a super cute, 22 minute version of NYPD Blue. Ah, well.

Things happen, on the job. A 10-52-F at the Happy Hunchback Bar and Grill with a little 10-34-S on the side, for example. Those kinds of things draw a couple of blue and whites, screaming in with their lights blazing and sirens wailing, so that the jackwagon shooting up a place with his Saturday night special can have it explained to him, in no uncertain terminology, that no, his current behavior is not acceptable and that an immediate cessation would be appreciated all around by everyone in the neighborhood. Those kinds of things happen.

It also occurs, once in a blue moon, that the 99's detectives are in such an area--on their way back from doing door to door at the Marcy Housing Project related to a drug execution, for example--and end up outside the Hunchback during the exchange of shots. Jake knows that neither he nor Rosa happen to be wearing kevlar. For a simple door to door it seems silly, even on a violent case like the one they're working, and the things just get hot as a late summer swamp ass when you've been on your feet all day. Those cretins on the FDNY like Boone love their turnout gear, probably eat, sleep and fuck in it with a little hole cut out, but cops don't have that kind of relationship with their vests.

And so Jake feels his heart race when the little .38's muzzle flashes and three kernels of popcorn burst on the night air. It must take less than a second, especially since bullets travel around 1000 feet per second, but it seems to drag on for an eternity. Three slugs catch Amy high, on the chest and shoulder. She spins, doe eyes huge in the darkness, and hits the asphalt with a thud.

The blue and whites are still more than a minute away. This represents the first time that Jake has ever fired his gun in anger, on the street. He is not the world's best shot, is good with his PB&J on the range but has always done his best detective work with good eyes and a quick mind like the legendary Lennie Briscoe. One bullet out of his spread takes the moke low in the shoulder, though. Blood spray clips high off it, though the angle probably makes it look worse than it really is. He drops his piece, grimaces, and goes down on his knees. "Shot me! He shot me!" These guys, for some reason, always seem to feel some pressing need to narrate their encounters with law enforcement.

He doesn't worry about that now, can't worry about it. Rosa has him rolled up and cuffed, is calling 10-10, 10-13 and 10-54 for two gunshot victims. She is not gentle. He keeps moaning, moaning. "Shot me, shot me... motherfuckers shot me. Ow..."

Two victims. Two gunshot victims. Two. Two. Two.

One.

Jake reaches Amy, rolls her over expecting the worst. He saw where she was hit, how she went down in a heap, and knows that there will be rivers of blood, pink bubbles on her lips and possibly a torn out throat with raw muscles and tendons working for breath. He finds none of that, thank whatever God there is that looks out for goofy Jewish detectives third grade in Brooklyn, just an expression of wide-eyed surprise at not becoming another statistic in New York City's interminable war on crime. "You're okay!" he says. "Really!"

She manages a nod, though her neck is stiff. He wonders how, for a moment, and realizes when his fingers brush across where the bullets should have pulverized flesh. Her vest... she's wearing her vest. Amy "Police Science is Like Sex to Me" Santiago has been trudging around all day in kevlar. It's something she does, just like memorizing ten codes for fun, when she does door to door or anything in a shady, apt to get dangerous place like the Red Hook or Marcy Projects. He's never been happier that this competitive, gentle, curiously large-headed woman is an enormous dork that follows rules that haven't even been written. She won't be happy, in a day or two, when purple bruises spread from her shoulder, across her breasts and all the way down her flank but she will be alive and able to grumble about it.

The blue and whites and bus are screaming. He knows because they arrive, soon enough, but he cannot even hear them over the rush of blood in his ears. Rosa coordinates with the uniformed officers, takes the paramedic team through what's been going on. She has to talk slow... they are FDNY men and need all the help they can get in words of two syllables or less. It's all in a different world. Jake's universe has narrowed to two people, one hovering above and the other lying below. He cannot speak, neither of them can. Their breaths have been stolen by the same thief, though by different methods. 

It would be imprudent to cradle her in his arms for so many reasons--even if he wants to more than he has anything else that he can easily remember--so he lays his forehead against hers. It is a gesture more intimate than kissing, somehow, when soft skin touches and the heat could scorch tungsten. Their lives have changed, must have changed in some way, and they know it when their eyes lock in that endless, all-encompassing moment... but neither of them can figure out how, yet. That's okay, though... they'll make sure to take the time.


End file.
